


Provocateur

by elhardo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-13 19:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11767035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elhardo/pseuds/elhardo
Summary: //"What are you going to do now, Potter?" His voice was low, an invitation, a challenge. Harry had followed him here for a reason and Draco wasn't exactly pulling out his wand for a duel, so what else did Harry think? Kiss or fist. It was Harry's move.//From his first day at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy had been seeking Harry Potter's attention. When he finally manages to get it, how long will he be able to hold onto it - hold onto Harry - with the war between light and dark getting closer and closer?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> just fyi, the time line of terms/ semesters in this fic are just all over the place i'm sorry and this is set like within the cannon universe 
> 
> plus, this fic is going to have more than one chapter but idk how to change that?? im kind of useless sorry

Draco Malfoy was jealous. From the first day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and he had been rejected, he had been jealous.  
Draco had meant to be the one everyone at Hogwarts was fascinated and impressed by, not him.  
Draco had meant to be the Quidditch star of Hogwarts – he wasn’t going to let his mother’s training go to waste, or the chance to impress his father – but then no. Of course he had to go and become the youngest seeker in a century and all that.  
He had annoyed Draco so much that he had sought out his attention from the first time they had met.

But it was always worst out on the Quidditch pitch. Like today, the last Quidditch match of the Hogwarts season: Slytherin versus Gryffindor. The tension between the two houses – between Draco and Harry themselves – had been worse than usual, it always was between the to opposing houses for the final match. Draco hadn’t had time to re-create his Potter Stinks badges from last year, but jeering and taunting would have to do. In Potions, Draco had sat deliberately close to Harry so that he could nudge him, putting him off his potion making, remind him that Draco had no trouble getting under his skin. Harry was adorably easy to annoy, Draco couldn’t help but to rile him up.  
There they were, facing each other behind their teammates, glaring at each other – Draco was reminded of their duel in their second year, “Scared, Potter?” And the retorting, “You wish,” Even second year Draco had been taken aback by how much sexual tension had charged those words.  
“I want a good clean match to finish the season with – no foul play from either side, thank you,” Madam Hooch’s amber eyes narrowed at the Slytherin team as Flint cracked his knuckles. “On my whistle,” Everyone mounted their brooms, legs tensed as they waited to kick off. Draco and Harry’s eyes were still locked on each other’s – grey on green – Harry’s in a determined glare, and Draco’s in a smirk, as they kicked off the ground sharply at Hooch’s whistle.  
Draco soared into the air, taking the opposite end of the pitch to Harry. He flew high, below Harry, eyes scouring the pitch for that telltale flash of gold. Draco looked up at Harry for a second, a smirk on his lips as he looked at the opposing Seeker.  
He scoured the pitch, zigzagging across the pitch searching for the little golden ball that would win Slytherin the House Cup. Soaring higher, the two seekers drew together.  
Harry rose to fly above the sun, obscuring it, but still allowing it to hit him in an unfair way. It didn’t matter if he was blocking out the sun because it was as if he could be the sun - it shone through the emerald of his eyes, playing tricks with the winter landscape before them, making everything scream spring; his already tanned skin positively bronze, his profile unfairly structured and almost regal.

Draco suddenly felt warm, starting to get agitated up in the air, not helped by how Potter suddenly shot past him, eyes tunneling at something. Forcing himself to focus, Draco’s gaze caught the same glimmer of gold Potter must have. He started to dive, too – remembering his mother’s teaching of how to best anticipate the Snitch’s seemingly random buzzings and to try and corner it.  
By keeping his form as stream-lined as possible, Draco managed to zip up alongside Harry’s Firebolt, feeling satisfied as the other boy threw him a frown – no other broom should have been able to keep up with the Firebolt.  
They both lay flat just against their brooms, arms inching up the handles, both of their hands outstretched towards the tiny fluttering ball buzzing just out of their reach. Their hands brushed and Draco felt a spark run through him. Harry looked at him, his face unreadable. Their positions, perfect mirrors of each other, reminded him of a dream he’d had the other night, of Draco and Harry being neck and neck for the snitch – just like they were now - until their hands had simultaneously clasped around the tiny golden ball and the two Seekers had started to fall from the sky, the hands clasped together, for the snitch had melted away. They had tumbled closer together until Harry’s mouth had been at Draco’s ear, his breath tauntingly hot against Draco’s skin before his lips had found his skin at last and Draco had let out a sigh of relief. Finally.  
“Finally! He’s done it again! Potter catches the snitch and that’s one hundred and fifty points of Gryffindor, winning them the match!”  
But this time Draco and Harry didn’t tumble out of the air, locked together – Harry caught the snitch and pulled up sharply, brandishing the little golden ball victoriously. Draco pulled up also, scowling at the Gryffindor seeker. He wouldn’t admit that it was his own fault, getting distracted by his opponent.  
He flew gracefully to the ground, meeting the rest of his scowling team. “What the hell was that, Malfoy?” Captain Flint rounded on him as soon as Draco’s feet were back on solid ground. Draco just frowned at him, choosing to ignore him and dust himself off. “You spent half the match looking at Potter than you for the snitch!”  
Draco had honestly thought he was being more subtle about it.  
“It’s not my fault this school is riddled with favourtism and that freak has an international leveled broom!” It also wasn’t Draco’s fault that stupid Potter was so stupidly pretty, either.  
Draco turned, feeling something akin to what being hit with a concentrated beam, to see Harry staring at him, frowning, not unkindly. It didn’t look unkind, like most of the looks they shared, but curiously calculating. Draco held his gaze, matching his intensity. Amongst the flood of people, his teammates and friends, at his time of victory, Potter was staring at Malfoy.  
But as soon as their gazes locked, Harry looked away, going back to grinning with his friends at Gryffindor’s victory. Draco turned back to his own team.  
“Get it together, Malfoy,” Flint gave him a long look before stalking off, the rest of the team in his wake.

_______

 

Gryffindor had secured yet another Quidditch House Cup win for the third year running. And for the third year running Draco had received an invitation to the end of season dinner, celebrating the Cup’s winners and the fantastic playing of all the Houses during this year’s season. Draco wanted to vomit.  
But it seemed something held been left unfinished between himself and Potter on the Quidditch pitch even after Potter had caught the snitch and won the match. Draco couldn’t help but to pursue it.  
Draco straightened his blazer, rolling his shoulders back before entering the fifth floor room where the dinner was being held. Slytherin may have lost, but that didn’t mean Draco would submit to the shame.  
(He gave them something to talk about other than bumming off of the Gryffindors’ win.)  
Everyone else had already arrived, raising their eyebrows as Draco entered, head held high, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, watching him swagger through the party with barely concealed surprise in their eyes. People hadn’t expected any of the Slytherin team to show up (even if they hadn’t really lost, having still beaten the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs) – but here Draco was, of course fashionably late, giving the people something to talk about other than congratulating the Gryffindors. And plus, the party could do with some classing up. And who better to do that than Draco Malfoy?

Draco did his loop of the room, making comments as he passed by conversationalists and setting people on edge as he surveyed them from where he mainly stationed himself by the refreshments table. People would glance Draco’s way, Crabbe and Goyle hovering near him, nervously before turning back to their conversations but he could feel a more intense stare fixed on him. Draco scanned the room before his eyes came to rest on the purveyor of the intense stare.  
Of course.  
Potter.  
Draco raised a glass to him with a smirk, a mock congratulations on yet another fantastic win. Potter’s eyes narrowed at that and he turned back to his conversation with Professor McGonagall, who no doubt was congratulating him on another great season Potter, we can expect great things from you in the future, Potter! Oh, and take fifty points for Gryffindor for being just so charmingly handsome, Potter! Draco rolled his eyes, going to circle the room once more.  
As Draco drifted from one boring conversation to the next, he could still feel Potter’s eyes on him almost constantly. The intensity of the other boy’s stare, the concentration of his attention on Draco, made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, sending tingles through him.  
Feeling his job of representing Slytherin done, Draco turned to leave; he could still feel Potter’s eyes fiercely fixed on him. Just to tease the boy, Draco turned in the doorway, Potter’s eyes already on him, and raised an eyebrow, pausing a moment to let the silent dare to follow sink in before turning back to leave.

Draco wandered down the corridor, straining his ears for the sound of following footsteps. He turned into an empty classroom a little ways down the hall from where the dinner was still going on, crossing the room to wait.  
Leaning against the wall, one leg crossed behind him, arms folded, a smirk playing across his face when he saw Potter emerge in the classroom doorway.  
“You just can’t resist sticking your nose in, can you, Potter?”  
He just stayed in the doorway, silent. Draco licked his lips and continued, trying to rile him up, “Could never resist following me, huh? Always had to know what I and everyone else is up to. I thought you’d get your little fanclub to do your dirty work for you by now,”  
A feeling of self-satisfaction riffled through Draco as he watched Potter slowly walk closer to him with every word, those green eyes piercing in the dim room. His words seemed to fuel Harry’s movements, so Draco kept talking, kept pushing.  
Soon the space between them was almost completely closed – Draco had a perfect, up-close and personal view of Potter’s clenched jaw, the small flecks of dirty bronze in his eyes, the slight chap of his lips.  
“Are you going to run back to your little party and tell a teacher on me for loitering?” Draco could feel the heat, the tension building between them. He knew it would only come to an end with a kiss or a fist. “What are you going to do now, Potter?” His voice was low, an invitation, a challenge. Harry had followed him here for a reason and Draco wasn’t exactly pulling out his wand for a duel, so what else did Harry think? Kiss or fist. It was Harry’s move.

Draco opened his mouth to speak again but then Harry’s lips were on his and he forgot everything else. It was nothing more than lips locked on lips – though it was Harry Potter’s lips – but the point of contact between them was like fire and Draco had been starved of this new kind of ferocious warmth his whole life. They broke apart, Harry’s eyes wide with shock at what he had just done.  
But then Draco pulled him back in, Harry seeming to go willingly. Their lips burned against each other, until their mouths opened up to each other, letting Draco drink the taste of him in.  
This boy, who had frustrated him since he had denied his proposition of friendship, who he had spent years trying to get his attention, to keep it,  
Harry Potter had frustrated Draco since the day he had rejected his friendship, the boy whom Draco had spent years trying to get his attention and keep it now had his hands clutched in Draco’s hair, his tongue moving languidly against Draco’s own. He didn’t kiss anything like he flew. Harry flew with grace but he was kissing ferociously, more concerned with kissing his lips raw than any kind of finesse. (Not that Draco was complaining, mind.)  
Draco had wanted things before. Had wanted x and y before but nothing had set him on fire the way Harry kissed, the way he wanted him closer. Draco gripped his own hands around Harry’s waist, drawing him closer and re-angling himself to lick further into Harry’s mouth. He relished in how Harry’s grip tightened in his hair. That combined with how Harry pressed him into the wall, pinning him under his touch, made him moan into the other boy’s mouth.  
Harry was a little shorter than Draco, but Draco was happy to melt under him, sliding his hands up the Potter boy’s shirt. The skin underneath was feverishly hot, and firm as Draco ran his hands up and down the boy’s torso. Harry shivered at the touch and Draco grinned into the kiss, putting pressure against where his hands were at the small of Harry’s back, rubbing at the hot skin, pushing his hands further up the boy’s spine. He grazed his nails against the skin the action prompting Harry to begin kissing at Draco’s neck. If he hadn’t melted already, Draco was pretty sure he was a puddle, held together only by Harry’s lips and tongue grazing across his skin; Draco then tilted his head back, allowing him more access, moving a hand to Harry’s own head, pressing him in, the other hand maintaining pressure at the base of Harry’s back, pushing the shirt further and further up, growing eager for it to be off.  
Harry clawed at Draco’s own dress shirt, pulling it open and biting at his collarbone. A tiny part of Draco’s mind should be pissed off at that – it was a nice shirt, the Potter boy should take care, but he was too momentarily caught up in the heat of Harry kissing down his shoulder.  
It was that that probably woke Draco up to what they were doing – with whom he was doing it. He reveled in that knowledge, that Harry bloody Potter was currently sucking at his collarbone, his hand clenched sharply in his hair before bringing his other hand round to Harry’s abdomen, about to push his hand lower, to the boy’s belt-line, before pushing him away.  
Not like this. Not now.  
He instantly regretted it. Not even a second away from Harry and his body was already experiencing violent withdrawal symptoms from his touch. Harry took a moment to process that he wasn’t kissing at Draco anymore and gave him a confused, almost annoyed look.  
Draco tried not to laugh – Harry was completely at Draco’s mercy, silently asking if they should continue. But Draco pushed Harry further away, his whole being screaming what are you doing?! He slipped from where Harry had had him, rightening his blazer, Harry’s eyes on him and his gaze far more intense than anything previous.  
If they carried on now that would be it – here, there was a silent promise of something more.  
Draco somehow managed to tear his eyes away from a disheveled-looking Harry, turning fully away from him and walking out of the classroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! :)
> 
> [im sorry this is such a mess lol]


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harry has some thoughts

“Hey Harry, where did you go last night?” George Weasley plopped down next to Harry at the breakfast table. It was early on a Sunday – Ron and Hermione were still in bed and Harry wasn’t in the right mindset for company right now.  
“Yeah, you missed Oliver getting a bit tipsy on some nettle wine and then trying to chat up McGonagall,” Fred snorted.  
“Huh? Oh, I bet that was a sight – what did she do?”  
“Surprisingly, she didn’t really react,” Fred seemed a little put out at the lack of the Professor’s dramatic reaction.  
“Yeah, she just kind of put up with it for a bit before ushering him out. Oh, imagine if he tried making a move on her?”  
Harry smiled around his cup of juice, “She would’ve smacked him,”  
“I’d’ve smacked him, making a move on my Minnie,” George sat up straighter.  
“Your Minnie? Everyone knows Minnie and me are tight,” Fred winked at Harry, causing him to almost choke on his juice.  
“Boys,” A sharp voice came from behind them.  
“Professor, you would you rather take as your lover, George or me?”  
The Professor swatted at the twins. “Get along and leave Potter to his breakfast, you two,”  
The twins pouted at their head of house before each pinching a piece of toast from Harry’s plate, “Well, see ya later, Harry,” They chorused.  
The Professor shook her head as she watched them go, turning back to Harry and his now empty breakfast plate. “Are you alright, Potter? You disappeared during the dinner last night – we missed our star seeker,”  
“Er, yeah,” He thought back to last night, to following Malfoy out and…the immediate following events. He still wasn’t sure what to think about that. “I, er, wasn’t feeling too well. Thought I’d just go back to the dorms quietly. Didn’t want anyone worrying,” Harry knew he wasn’t the most confident liar but there you go.  
“Ah, well – don’t be afraid to visit Madam Pomfrey, Potter. Although I’m glad you’ve decided you’re feeling unwell now that the season is over,” She nodded to him and left, continuing up the aisle to the teacher’s table.  
Harry wondered how people would react if he told them truth for his ducking out of the end of season dinner early. Oh yeah, Professor, I wasn’t feeling ill, I actually only left early to go and see what Malfoy was up to and ended up snogging the shit out of him.  
Eugh, he had snogged the shit out of Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. His rival since literally day one of Hogwarts.  
Harry wasn’t oblivious to the tension between them, how poignant it was on the Quidditch pitch. He had noticed Draco’s staring at him, something different to the snide stares from before, a look that snide look, something Harry couldn’t place. He had caught Draco looking at him like that before, but only briefly. This time, up in the air, away from the rest of the school, the look had been more prominent. He had heard a small gasp from Malfoy as he shot closer than necessary past him as he dove for the snitch. Then Draco had managed to keep pace with him – something only a seriously skilled flyer would be able to do against a Firebolt.

And he had just looked at Harry – nothing snide but nothing inherently kind or curious, either. Just looked at him.  
Harry had decided to repay the favour, eyes drawn to Malfoy even when they were on the ground, anything that had, or hadn’t exchanged between them irrelevant on the solid ground, people all around. Harry wasn’t sure what to think of those grey eyes on him like that.  
He heard Flint yell his name and Harry turned from where Hermione and Ginny were hugging him, Ron clapping him on the back and turned to look at the Slytherin team. And Draco had looked back at him. That same, devoid of anything Harry was used to, look.  
But then Ron had gotten him into a friendly headlock and scrubbed his head, brining his attention back to the victory he had secured.

It bugged Harry that although he knew something had passed between them on the Quidditch pitch, he couldn’t figure out what.

Harry was caught up in conversation with Professor McGonagall, her congratulating him again and excitedly running Harry by her ideas and plans for next season when he caught sight of him. Draco was across the room, his ever-loyal lankies, Crabbe and Goyle, hovering near him. What was he doing here? The Slytherin team didn’t tend to turn up unless they won, which they had done once since Harry had started at Hogwarts.  
He had continued to stare, not even pretending to listen to the Professor anymore, his stare and attention intently focused on Draco and what he might be up to.  
Draco’s eyes had grazed over the rest of the room before settling on Harry. Then he had smirked, raising a glass at Harry sarcastically. Harry just narrowed his eyes at the other boy, turning his attention back to McGonagall - he wouldn’t let Malfoy get to him here.  
But as Draco went to circle the room, close to where Harry was talking but not close enough for Harry to hear what he was contributing, if anything, his eyes kept landing on him. He didn’t seem to be contributing anything – just positioning himself in the middle of people’s conversations, making them uncomfortable before moving on with a haughty little look on his face.  
He watched Draco as he had stood by the refreshments table, sipping at his glass of butterbeer, enthralled by the simple act of the other boy tossing his head a little, rearranging his white-blond hair and turning in the doorway, raising an eyebrow at him. Harry’s eyes widened at the direct stare – it was like Draco was daring him to follow him, daring him to see what he was up to.

Was this some sort of trick, trying to lead him into a sort of ambush? Professor McGongagall was now engaged in conversation with Madam Hooch, no one was looking his way – he could just quickly slip out now, be back before anyone noticed.  
Harry skirted around the edge of the room, careful not to bring any attention to himself so that he could slip away. He walked quickly down the corridor, coming to a stop at the one of the only classrooms along this corridor, the door already open. He leaned in the doorway, eyes immediately drawn to where Draco was leant against the wall, watching him, that damn smirk playing across his face. “You just can’t resist sticking your nose in, can you, Potter?”  
Harry barely registered what Draco had said, his full attention fixated on Draco’s mouth, he was licking his lips and Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen something quite like Draco Malfoy licking his lips, teeth lightly grazing his lower lip. Draco kept talking, obviously trying to rile him up, and distantly, Harry registered that his words annoyed him, but his eyes didn’t move from where they watched the words spill from his mouth, the sight driving him forward. He was barely aware of himself moving forward, closing the space between them until Harry was close enough to hit Malfoy. Close enough to even kiss him.  
Draco had kept talking all the while as Harry had moved closer to him, but only now had Harry tuned in to what he was saying. “What are you going to do now, Potter?” The boy’s voice was low, a rough tinge to it like he was putting effort into keeping it cool. He guessed that must be difficult – the heat between them had risen, was stifling. But it wasn’t exactly the type of heat before a duel. But if they weren’t going to fight, what were they going to do?  
And then Harry had been kissing him. It had started as just lips on lips then progressed to him pinning Draco against the wall, Draco moaning into his mouth. Harry had never felt such a thrill before – nothing compared to the heat of his mouth on Malfoy’s, the sound, the feel of his moan, the feel of his hands at the small of his back, nails grazing at his skin just hard enough to rile him up more than any taunting words he could have thrown at him.  
Harry had almost ripped open Draco’s shirt, nipping and kissing, Draco leaning his head back to allow his kisses more access, his hand moving around to just below his navel when he had pushed him away.  
It took a moment for him to realise there was now distance between himself and Draco; annoyance at the fact he was now not kissing Draco anymore almost overshadowing that confusion. His face must have showed that as Draco let out a small laugh-like noise but then he pushed Harry further away, slipping out from where he had seemingly been so pleased to be pinned under Harry a second before.  
Harry had watched, incredulous, as Draco straightened his blazer thinking this had to be some sort of trick to wind him up. Their eye contact only broke when Draco left, closing the door behind him as if nothing had happened, Harry too stunned to do or say anything but stare after him. A single thought had crossed his mind,  
what the fuck.

The odd thing was, it wasn’t surprising that it had happened. Sure, Harry had wanted to punch Malfoy – to properly deck him for all his vicious and smug teasing – for years. Harry reasoned that what they had done had just been an elevated version of decking him – they had still physically vented their frustration on each other, albeit not in the way Harry had thought they would. He had also vastly enjoyed the kissing, the touches, finding himself also enjoying who he was kissing, who was touching him and who he was touching.  
Harry had liked boys before – Cedric, of course, that boy with the copper hair and kind eyes in Ravenclaw and Anthony, from primary school who had always smiled at him. But last time he checked, he didn’t like Malfoy.  
Liked kissing him, yeah but actually like him? But he guessed it made sense – the ineffable tension between them, him always seeking Malfoy out, obsessed with what he was up to and going to, frankly, extreme lengths to do that.

He kept wondering if that had been a one time, heat of the moment, quick release of tension thing? Were they just going to ignore it and continue to get up in each other’s faces until they got up in each other’s faces.  
From what Harry remembered, Draco had enjoyed what they were doing but then contradicted that by pushing him away just as things has started to heat up and walked out.  
Harry wasn’t going to deny he had enjoyed it at least (as annoyed/ confused as he was that he had enjoyed doing that with Malfoy).  
Harry also wasn’t going to deny that Draco Malfoy was attractive. With hair the colour Harry imagined angels’ halos would look like, and which he now knew to be silky soft, too, grey eyes alight with something that definitely didn’t belong in the eyes of an angel.  
He always sported a regal expression, proud look in his eyes – Harry had always found it haughty, he still did, but he couldn’t deny the cockiness was frustratingly attractive.  
Harry knew that he had always been drawn to Malfoy, but now he had a new factor to consider – was he attracted to Malfoy? Did he like Malfoy? It may explain his fascination with the other boy, which he had otherwise always put down to hatred or his own boundless curiosity. He’d never considered it before, always believing Malfoy to be pure evil. He may still be, but he made it look beautiful.

 

Harry shook his head a little, trying to clear it of thoughts of Draco’s lips, turning his attention to the doors of the Great Hall where he was faced with the real thing. Harry sat up to attention.  
He watched Draco look down his nose at Ron and Hermione entering the Great Hall, standing near him, scanning the room to see where Harry was sat; Harry waved from where he had hidden himself behind the stacks of bacon for some semblance of privacy at the breakfast table.  
He registered Draco freezing, looking at him, but then Ron pushed past him, waving back to Harry and making his way over with Hermione. Harry felt a little satisfied that Draco was still stood still, his hand twitching at his side like he was going to wave, too. But Harry kept his gaze and small smile fixed on his friends.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> questions are asked

Draco was starting to get increasingly more frustrated with the Potter boy.  
First, he had waved at Draco – waved. Then had the audacity to in fact not be waving at him, but the blood-traitor and the mud-blood he called his friends, when Draco’s hand had actually twitched at his side like he was going to wave back.  
Then, as the school week started up again, Potter’s staring had started up again. He didn’t mind the other boy staring at him – in fact he loved it, the attention Potter was giving him – but what he didn’t like was that was the only attention Potter was giving him. He wasn’t rising to Draco’s jabs anymore, only frowning slightly before looking away from him, only for Draco to catch him staring again. But with every verbal jab Draco made, Potter’s staring seemed to lessen.  
It had been a week since they snogged the shit out of each other and he was going mad – he had been expecting for Potter to seek him out actively since then.  
Had Draco left him unsatisfied? Draco would admit that maybe Potter might be a little miffed at being left like that, but that had been Draco’s first proper kiss, he hadn’t really known what he was doing, being driven forward by his want for the other boy. He wanted to kiss him again, to be kissed by him again – wanted his attention.  
By the end of the week, Draco was so worked up he couldn’t sit down to work on any assignments. He ended up throwing down his quill, muttering to himself about stupid Potter and grabbing his broomstick to let off some steam. He stalked down to the Quidditch pitch, still absorbed in his own frustrations that he didn’t notice someone else’s things already in the changing room.  
Only when he got onto the pitch, snitch from the changing rooms captain’s office in hand, did he see another person already out on the pitch. He could tell just by the person’s flying style who it was. He wasn’t sure if Potter’s being here was a blessing or just frustrated him more.  
Whichever it was, he scowled up at the other boy but continued to make his way onto the pitch, toying the sleeping snitch.  
He made a show of checking his broom over before pocketing the snitch and mounting his broom, pretending not to notice how keenly aware he was of Potter flying lower and closer to him. Draco flew up a little, just below Potter, flying in a small circle, enjoying being back up in the air, the wind in his face and the feel of the other boy’s eyes on him. Pulling back around to face Potter, he withdrew the snitch from the pocket of his Quidditch robes, waking it up and tossing it lightly into the air. He raised an eyebrow at Potter before snatching it again. He released it once more, giving it chance to get away, brow still cocked, before he flew after the little golden ball. Potter had accepted his challenges before, and the boy was so predictable, Draco wasn’t surprised when he saw him flying just below him.  
Draco had always dreamed of going head to head – just him and Potter – for the snitch, no distractions, to prove he was the better flyer, better seeker – more deserving of everyone’s praise.  
But he found a different kind of hunger fuelled his flying here – he was flying more than to catch the little golden ball. He was flying to catch Potter’s attention, to keep it – he was flying to capture what they had at the end of season dinner.  
They cut through the air, turning all too sharply in their purist of the ball; Draco ignored the rush of wind through his hair, ripping at his eyes they were flying so quickly. They were now both about two metres behind the snitch, Harry now flying next to Draco, so close their brooms were almost bumping.  
Willing his broom to go faster, Draco stretched out his arm to the snitch, Harry mirroring his movements. Draco inched up his broom, his fingers brushing the little golden ball, but Harry was there, too. In a normal match, Draco would have smacked the other boy’s hand away but here, he let Harry’s hand sneak up and join his own hand clasping around the snitch.  
The delicate wings withdrew with the two seekers’ hands clasped around it – clasped together. Draco watched Harry look down at where they were holding hands around the little ball then back up at him. They were stationary up in the air – attention undivided from one another.  
Harry froze Draco in place with his stare – his eyes blatantly searching his own, but for what, Draco wasn’t sure. He didn’t seem to find what he was looking for, because he shook his head, withdrawing his hand from around Draco’s and flying back down to the ground.  
Draco just looked at his hand that Harry had been clutching just a second ago; the gentle touch had sent a shivering spark through Draco, intentional or not.  
Draco watched Harry land with a thud on the ground and stalk back to the changing rooms, still shaking his head. For a moment there Draco thought Harry was going to kiss him. Draco had been hoping he would kiss him. Draco would have leaned in to kiss him himself, but he didn’t want to humiliate himself, to make himself vulnerable to Harry. He still didn’t know where he stood with the other boy.  
He waited a little before descending himself, following after Potter to head back and get changed.  
After chucking the snitch back into its box in the office, Draco ducked into the changing room where Harry was facing away from him. He looked at the other boy, wondering if he should say something. But Draco didn’t – he just turned back to his end of the room and peeled off his Quidditch coat.  
Draco knew he wanted to say something to Harry, he couldn’t bear this silence between them, so he turned back to look at him but any words became caught in his throat as he saw Harry tugging off his shirt, enraptured by the sleek movements of the muscles in his back. He didn’t even stop staring when Harry turned to look at him, catching Draco’s staring red-handed. 

He registered Harry saying something to him but Draco still couldn’t conjure up any words, even to defend himself. He hadn’t actually heard what Harry had said.  
“I’m sorry?” Words finally spilled out of Draco’s mouth, but hardly in an articulate way.  
Harry scowled at him, “I said what am I to you? What are we?”  
Draco sputtered at the question. “What is that supposed to mean?”  
Harry just narrowed his eyes at him, putting his hands on his hips (which wasn’t really helping his concentration). Draco sighed, pulling off his training shirt and tugging on a fresh one. He noticed how Harry watched his movements, his incredulous look wavering. “I’d say we’re… enemies with benefits,”  
Harry threw the shirt he had balled in one of his fists at the rest of his clothes, marching closer to Draco. “Cut the bullshit, Malfoy,”  
Draco couldn’t help raising an eyebrow and smirking in reply, “Don’t use naughty muggle language with me, Potter,”  
Harry stepped even closer and Draco was even more aware, if that was possible, Harry’s bare chest. “You know what I’m talking about, Malfoy. You felt it out on the Quidditch pitch during that match, and out there just then. And I know you felt it at the end of season dinner – you didn’t want me to follow you for no reason,” His eyes were burning with earnest for Draco to answer him and answer him properly.  
Why was he getting so wound up about this, why did what Draco have to say mean so much to him?  
And then a thought hit him – did Harry like him? Like, like like him?  
“What are you smiling for?” It was only when Harry said that that Draco realised he was indeed smiling at the other boy, and not a mean smile either. Harry was slightly smaller than Draco and he looked cute, angrily getting all up in his face because he liked him.  
“Since you’re so observant, can’t you guess?” Draco had lowered his voice, pressing his face closer to the other boy’s, who had drawn back a little in his confusion. From where Harry was standing Draco must be acting odd – years of back and forth bickering, that tension accumulating and fuelling their snogging after the end of season dinner which Draco had abruptly ended. Then challenging him on the Quidditch pitch where the only person he wanted to show off to was the one he was competing against. And now here, in the changing room, he was smiling at him. But Harry still didn’t seem to get it if his confused look was anything to go by.  
“Oh for Merlin’s sake-“ He cupped Harry’s face in his hands, pressing his lips to the other boy’s. At first Harry didn’t respond and Draco was reinforced in his not wanting to initiate a kiss – it seemed like he was going to pull away, give Draco a taste of his own medicine. Maybe Draco was horrifically wrong and Harry didn’t like him at all – in anyway.  
But then Harry was kissing him back and all the heat and desperation for him to be right, that Harry did like him.  
They kissed heatedly before it melted into something far more tender. It wasn’t a kiss of people who were venting on each other, of fuck-buddies, it was a kiss of people who liked each other. Because Draco did like Harry – had liked him for a while, but whenever the realisation threatened to become fully realised, he had swatted it away. He liked how laid back Harry was with his friends, how quiet and private he was – never asking for attention he got, unlike Malfoy who couldn’t function without attention. But he was beginning to think that he wouldn’t need anyone else’s attention if he had Harry’s.  
Draco pushed his body flush against Harry’s feeling the lines of his torso, running his hand lightly over Harry’s naked torso, flitting his finger over the lines of his torso, smiling against his mouth as the other boy shivered a little under his touch. He drew away a little, “Does that answer your question?”  
Harry’s voice was as equally breathy with his answer, “I think that covers it, yeah,” He blushed and looked away, Draco taking his hands from the other boy’s face. He turned back, blush still present, finally putting on his shirt and the rest of his change of clothes, stuffing his Quidditch robes into his bag, Draco doing the same. As they got changed, the kept glancing over at each other, smiling at each other before looking away again.  
Harry waited for him as Draco as he folded his robes neatly, putting them carefully in his kit bag. “It takes twice as long if you insist on folding them like that,”  
“But at least they won’t wrinkle,”  
“I’m sure there’s spell for de-wrinkling,”  
“I sure hope so,” Draco slung his bag over his shoulder and took the fabric of Harry’s shirt between his fingers. “For your sake at least,”  
Harry swatted at him, starting to walk back up to the castle.  
“So,”  
“So?” Harry echoed.  
“What are we, then?”  
Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco, leaning in close with a smirk, “I thought we’d answered that already. Why – did the answer not satisfy you, Malfoy?”  
Draco blushed a little, looking away. “I mean, are you my boyfriend now?” Draco guessed he’d put himself out there with kissing them and that had had favourable results, so he kept going.  
“Would you want me to be your boyfriend, Malfoy?”  
Draco scowled at him before he realised beneath the teasing tone there was a genuine question. He realised he did want Potter as his boyfriend – that was of course the surest way to keep his attention. But it wasn’t just that, he had always been jealous of the people he made light up and the people who made Harry light up; Draco realised that he had wanted to make Harry light up and be lit up by him.  
The exploration in the vulnerability of Draco Malfoy continued as he answered, “Yes,”  
Harry was doing his thing of just looking at him and, frankly, it was starting to piss Draco off in his current terrified state. Harry always seemed to be looking at Malfoy like he was trying to figure him out, trying to gauge if he was being snide – cpuldn’t he see how terrified Draco was? Draco had been brought up with the philosophy of ‘stiff upper lip’, he was of a noble, superior bloodline – what did any of the Malfoys have to sweat about? But Harry Potter had always made him flustered – pureblooded Malfoy or not.  
Then Harry nodded slowly. “I guess I could get used to you enough to go out with you,”  
“Get used to me? I am an event. You don’t just ‘get used to’ Draco Malfoy,”  
Harry raised his eyebrows like he had just further proven his point. “But does that mean we’re a thing now?”  
Harry’s hand brushed against Draco’s at where their arms were hanging by their sides as they walked. “Yeah, I think so,” Draco took Harry’s hand and they smiled at each other.  
They walked back up to the castle in comfortable quiet, Harry’s hand warm in his own. Draco Malfoy: pure-blood, member of the noble and most ancient house of Black, star of the Slytherin Quidditch team, Harry Potter’s boyfriend.  
He was proudest of the latter label the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what even is pacing or development ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/AT-_csG6J0s05E1DBl1gUdyjF5wRM8i66jSykz75sckttIOoo2hrJQs/ ← enemies with benefits
> 
> [but i got my gcse results on thursday and i just spent the last two days crying with relief lel]


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> study dates ensue

Draco was moaning, face pressed into Harry’s shoulder. His fly was open and Harry’s hand was twisting around his cock, with every twist of his hand, Draco made a sound, each more needy than the last. He was pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to Harry’s neck, where he had practically ripped his collar open, mouthing his name as he came all over Harry’s hand. It felt so good to have Draco crumble like that in front of him, in Harry’s arms.  
Thankfully, the cupboard Harry had dragged them into was one of Filch’s and he reached around his boyfriend to grab him some tissue. He watched Draco clean himself up, reveling in how he had mentally referred to Draco as his boyfriend so naturally. It had been two months since they had decided to be together. They still teased and riled each other up, but there was no malice there anymore.  
Like today, they had been hissing comments to each other, riling each other up, all throughout Potions last lesson, nothing looking out of the ordinary to the other students, but Harry had hardly kept it together. As soon as the lesson had finished, Harry had grabbed Draco’s hand and shoved them into the nearest cupboard, smashing his lips against the other boy’s. It had been all tongue and teeth, heated and desperate from the start.  
“Harry Potter, you dirty thing,” Draco’s voice had been husky as Harry had slipped his hand down his trousers and ran a hand up his length.  
Harry’s hand was still loosely clasped at Draco’s hip, rubbing lazy circles as Draco turned back to him. His grey eyes and smile were soft when he looked at Harry as he knotted his hands around his neck. He pressed a kiss to Harry’s jaw, kissing over his cheek, the corner of his lips before capturing them fully. Harry’s eyes fluttered closed at the gentle kisses, his mouth moving against Malfoy’s. Harry arched his back down, pressing him close as Draco deepened the kiss, only his grazing hand over Harry’s crotch between them. Harry scratched his hand through Draco’s hair, mussing it even more. His hair was always so soft and silky, so pristinely styled that if Harry’s hands weren’t exploring Draco’s body, they were in his hair.  
Draco’s eyes followed the movement and he smiled against Harry’s mouth, knotting his own hands in Harry’s hair and pulling him closer, gripping his ass and making Harry groan at the touch. Their mouths melded together in slow kisses, the desperation and heat gone as they just enjoyed each other. Harry sucked Draco’s lower lip into his mouth, Draco humming a pleased noise into Harry’s mouth-  
The door to the caretaker’s cupboard yanked open. Harry didn’t even properly register the door was open, him and Draco on full view.  
Harry was still kissing Draco, only noticing him no longer kissing back fully when Draco fully pulled away. Harry frowned at him for pulling away so abruptly before his eyes drifted over to the person stood in the doorway, staring at them.  
Ron let out a strangled noise before slamming the door shut.  
“Oh shit,”  
Draco just frowned before kissing Harry’s cheek, continuing as if nothing had happened. “Who cares what he thinks,”  
Harry knew it would be much different if one of Draco’s friends had caught them. He frowned. “I should go and talk to him,”  
Draco locked his arms around Harry’s waist. “Why? Is Weasley better company?”  
Harry frowned at him, unlacing his arms from around his waist. “I’ll see you later,”  
He slipped out of the caretaker’s cupboard, jogging up to the Gryffindor common room where Ron had most likely fled to. Being a private person, Harry hadn’t exactly advertised his relationship with Draco and he knew what Ron and Hermione thought of him and they thought Harry thought of him.  
Harry got to the Fat Lady, who eyed his skeptically, “Your little friend just ran through here looking like he’d seen a ghost, or something worse,”  
Harry gulped a little, muttering the password as the portrait swung open. He took a deep breath before clambering through the portrait hole.  
He looked around the common room, eyes immediately seeing Ron stood on the bottom step up to the dorms. He didn’t have the chance to figure out the look Ron was giving him before he turned and disappeared up the stairs to their dorm. Harry ran a hand through his hair before following his best friend. He felt a little scared, but Ron had been so understanding with him before, why wouldn’t he be understanding about Malfoy? But then again, it was Malfoy. The guy Harry was supposed to hate. A guy – full stop.  
Harry didn’t have time to fully worry about that as he walked into his dorm, devoid of everyone but himself and Ron, whom Harry found he couldn’t didn’t want to look in the eye. But he couldn’t stand the silence between them – he couldn’t tell if it was the calm before the storm or whatever. “So~,” Harry spoke, but didn’t say any more. He just wanted Ron to say what he had to say, good or bad.  
Ron drew in a breath. “What, pray tell, the fuck, Harry,”  
He could feel Ron’s incredulous look, arms folded firmly over his chest. Was he asking what the fuck over him snogging Malfoy, or what the fuck about him kissing a guy. “Er, well. To be honest, this isn’t the first time. With a guy, I mean,” Harry was tumbling over his words, finally bringing his eyes up to Ron’s afraid of his stare. Ron’s frown deepened and for a terrible moment Harry was scared this was the end of their friendship. “What? I mean, I don’t care if you’ve kissed boys before, Harry, if you like them – I don’t care about that. But Harry,” He narrowed his eyes at him, not giving Harry time to be fully relieved that Ron wasn’t going to drop him as a friend for being bi, “Did it have to be Malfoy? How did that even happen?! He’s evil!”  
Harry stared at him before shaking his head. He honestly didn’t know himself how it had happened. It just – had. Harry just shrugged, letting his explanation fall from his mouth without any thought, “He’s hot,”  
Ron shot him a disgusted look at that. He sighed, running a hand through his hair with a, “Bloody hell, Harry,” before throwing his arms up. “Welp, I guess you’ll be good for each other,”  
It was Harry’s turn to be confused. He screwed his whole face up at Ron with his question. “Well, I mean, it’ll make you less angsty over him if you’re with him, right? And maybe you could make Draco less evil. Either way, you’ll find out what he’s up to instead of moaning,” Ron grinned. Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron’s wording, smirking a little – he thought he’d be doing a lot more moaning when it came to Malfoy now. Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, who laughed a little. But he was completely sincre when he said, “Thanks for understanding,”  
“Oh I don’t pretend to understand why you’d want to be with him but don’t worry,”  
Harry smiled and wrapped an arm around Ron, further showing how sincere and appreciative he was of him. Ron hugged him back, “Alright mate. Are you gonna tell Hermione?” Harry pulled back and sighed, “Yeah. Come on,”

Ron and Harry made their way back down to the common room, which was thankfully still mostly empty. Hermione was curled up in her usual chair, and looked up at them from her book. “Where were you guys?”  
Ron glanced at Harry, nodding to their friend to prompt him along. Harry thought it would be best to just spit it out – Hermione always saw through any sugar coating anyway. “Ron walked in on Malfoy and I snogging and I’m also dating him,”  
Hermione just blinked at him before smacking him on the shoulder with her less than light book, “I knew it!”  
“Ow!” Harry rubbed at his arm where she had hit him.  
“What do you mean ‘I knew it’?” Ron frowned at her.  
Hermione shrugged a little, “Wasn’t it obvious? I mean Harry, you’ve been obsessed with Malfoy for years-“  
“Obsessed?” Harry sputtered. He may have been curious about the other boy, but hardly obsessed. Hermione gave him the look and Harry piped back down. “Anyway, you’ve been obsessed with each other for years. Plus, it was almost like you took it upon yourselves to personify the tension between Slytherin and Gryffindor – all that had to end somewhere and it was going to be physical. I guess you decided to kiss it out rather than fight it out,”  
Harry just stared at her, “How did you get all that?” Hermione just looked at him again before closing her book. “So what’s Malfoy like with you then?”  
Ron rolled his eyes, “I do not want to hear this,” He stalked away from them, sitting down a few chairs over from Harry and Hermione. Harry laughed a little at him – he wasn’t exactly going to do boy talk with Hermione about Malfoy. Harry turned back to Hermione and just shrugged a little, “We still rile each other up and stuff, but I guess it’s more light hearted now? I don’t know. I think I just…” Harry searched for what to say to Hermione. After shredded the layers of hatred he had always layered onto Malfoy and get to know him better, he was actually starting to get where the other boy was coming from. It also didn’t hurt that he liked kissing Draco. “Turns out I just like him, I guess,”  
Hermione gave him a soft look, humming a little and looking at something just past Harry before refocusing back on him. “I’m guessing he’s also a good kisser, too,”  
Harry tried to push away the rising blush and just rolled his eyes at Hermione. “I’m going to get started on McGonagall’s essay,”

…

Harry was finding out that Draco was alarmingly similar to Hermione – he always insisted on doing homework when they could be doing literally anything else. He admired how driven Draco was, but study dates weren’t exactly what Harry was expecting when he started dating Draco Malfoy.  
But there they were, sat close together in a secluded corner of the library, textbooks open and revision notes sprawled all over the table. His commitment to his studies was also rubbing off on Harry, which was to Draco’s detriment. Harry was currently ignoring Draco, working on his revision (or at least pretending to), hiding his smile as Draco kept pestering him. “You’re not actually ignoring me, your boyfriend, for your homework are you?” He could hear the incredulous tone in his voice as Harry kept his eyes fixed on his work and trying to suppress his snigger. Draco huffed a little at Harry’s lack of response to him and Harry wanted to kiss away the pout he knew Draco was sporting. Harry felt Draco slip his arms around his waist, wrapping himself around Harry, pressing his chin into Harry’s shoulder, “Pay attention to meeeee,”  
Harry just laughed, cuddling into Draco, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “That better?” Draco pressed another kiss to Harry’s lips. “Now it is,” Harry smiled and they kissed again.  
But the moment was broken when someone cleared their throat. Harry looked across the table to see Hermione and Ron, books in arms. “Mind if we join you?” Draco and Ron were scowling at each other as Harry cleared some of the rolls of parchment from the table, making room for his friends and answering Hermione’s question with a yeah, sure.  
They hadn’t spoken about integrating friends but he was glad Hermione and Ron were trying and hoped Draco would try, too. Harry thought about Draco’s clique – Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Blaise and Theodore - and if he would make an effort with them. Maybe, but they’re evil. But since Draco turned out to be less evil than originally thought, maybe the others could be, too.  
Ron and Draco were still staring each other down (Harry understood how he found it confusing and hard to let go of that prejudice, but Harry had done it himself and knew Ron could do it, too). “Well aren’t you going to sit, Weasley?” Draco quipped. Ron just narrowed his eyes, looking like he was going to stay stood up now just because Malfoy asked if he would sit down. But Hermione tugged a little on his sleeve, giving him a pointed look and his friend took in a breath before sitting down stiffly next to Hermione.  
“So what were you guys doing then?”  
Draco was looking critically at Hermione as she set out her own revision things. Harry knew he was always at her heels in terms of being top of their year academically.  
He slipped a hand onto Draco’s thigh, squeezing a little and leaning over to whisper, “Be good,” And a second later, “And I’ll be bad for you later,” Draco tensed at his words, he could see the shocked look that melded into a small smirk. His hand slipped on top of Harry’s and he squeezed it.  
“Harry was working on Professor Snape’s research essay,”  
“Harry, you told me you’d already done it when you asked if you could look over my essay!” Ron sniggered at Hermione’s scowling. “Nice one, Harry,”  
Hermione took out her own potions essay and frowned at him. Harry and Ron were sniggering together but he stopped when he felt Draco frowning at him, “What?”  
Draco rolled his eyes, “You’re a cheeky little shit,” Harry grinned at him.  
He looked over Harry’s shoulder at what he was writing. “Harry, you wrote ‘the stem of wolfsbane can be used in such potions’ – that’s wrong,”  
Harry glanced down at what he had written and shrugged, “That’s just what I got from Hermione’s,” The two boys looked up at her.  
“No, ‘the stem of wolfsbane’ is right,”  
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Using the stem of wolfsbane, where the leaves are is highly toxic and in an awakening potion, wouldn’t do any good. You need to use its roots,” They all stared at him. His tone wasn’t belittling in any way, which surprised Harry – he didn’t expect Draco to be so tolerant straight away, especially given his history with Hermione.  
“But as a heart sedative, if you cut the stem just so, it could be used,”  
Draco thought for a moment. “I guess. But for purposes of Professor Snape’s essay I don’t think that would help. Also, the stem would have to be cut with a very specifically charmed knife which is just a hassle,”  
Harry could see a light in Hermione’s eye as she continued to question Draco. He knew himself and Ron weren’t at the same level of dedication to academia as their friend and he smiled seeing Hermione getting on so well with Draco, them both talking so animatedly. He glanced over at Ron and he rolled his eyes like there’s two of them now.  
The four of them soon lapsed into an amicable silence as they all got on with their work, Draco’s fingers intertwined with Harry’s hand that hadn’t moved from Draco’s thigh. Harry thought he could get used to this, sitting with his friends and boyfriend without any hostility. Maybe these two aspects of his life could warm up to each other. He knew there was still a lot of things integrated in Draco that Harry, nor his friends, agreed with but he was determined he could change that. If not for his own sake than Draco’s.  
Ron sighed and slumped in his chair, chucking his quill down, “Well I’m done,”  
Hermione put down her quill too, rubbing her temple a little, closing her textbook. “Yeah, I think I am, too. Are you going back to the common room with us, Harry?”  
Draco’s grip on Harry’s hand under the table tightened. “Uh, actually, I think I’m going to hang out for a little longer. I’ll catch up with you guys later,” He caught Ron and Hermione sharing a look before they packed away their things and stood up. “See you later then,”  
Draco’s hand had moved to Harry’s own leg and was starting to wander. He swatted the hand away, coughing a little as he replied to Ron, “Yeah. Later,”  
Ron’s eyes flicked between Harry and Draco before he shrugged and left, Hermione following.  
Harry could see Draco’s eyes, slightly narrowed, watching intently as Ron and Hermione left the library. His arms slipped around Harry’s waist again, his voice tickling a little as he pulled Harry close, “What were you saying about being bad for me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://i.pinimg.com/736x/21/93/12/219312d8af164ea200d7086f7ae41fe2--no-one-understands-language.jpg ← Hermione’s look  
> https://pics.onsizzle.com/what-pray-tell-the-fuck-source-ciel-doux-60-065-notes-18202022.png ← what, pray tell, the fuck
> 
> this chap was meant to be up earlier but i turned 16 on the 31st!!

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! :) 
> 
> [im sorry this is such a mess]


End file.
